


a feeling you thought you'd forgotten

by alullabytoleaveby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Amnesiac Dean, Case Fic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Romance, Self Loathing, brief mention of rape, dean and cas and a baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 00:38:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8822782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alullabytoleaveby/pseuds/alullabytoleaveby
Summary: “What’s wrong? Did something happen during the hunt?” And okay, that’s a weight off his chest. Even if Dean’s woken up in Bizarro World, monster hunting is still his gig. “When I went to sleep last night, we were living in the bunker,” Dean blurts out. The shift in Cas’ facial expression is subtle but it’s there—from shocked to worried to thoughtful in the blink of an eye. But while Dean’s been internally panicking since he opened his eyes, Cas is a rock.“We haven’t lived in the bunker for three years now,” Cas tells him, a strange, strangled undertone in his voice, and okay, maybe Cas is freaking out just as much as Dean is. “We moved because you said we couldn’t have a family and live in an underground cave like a bunch of ‘mole people.’” ---When Dean wakes up with five years of his memory missing he knows that something supernatural is at work. But without much to go on, there's no simple solution to fix it. Navigating this new world where he's married to Cas and they have a kid isn't going to be easy, but nothing is going to be harder than tackling the guilt he feels over forgetting their life together.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nicKnack22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicKnack22/gifts).



> For my dearest, dearest Musey, who has been endlessly patient for her very late birthday gift and incredibly understanding while I wandered around Siberia (literally), finished my dissertation, moved back across the Atlantic, job hunted, and wasted far too much time not writing this when I should have been. I hope this was worth the wait!
> 
> Happy very very belated birthday, my friend. I wish you so much joy and happiness in each and every day and I’m so so so glad that you’re in my life for yet another year. Can’t wait to see you soon!
> 
> With so much love,  
> Emi

It’s the staticky cry of a baby that wakes him—a foreign enough sound that his eyes jolt open, but familiar enough from his years on the road that his body isn’t tense, ready to attack a threat. As the crying continues, there’s a grunt from his left, and that, more than the wail of a child is what causes Dean to go stiff. His eyes flick over to the side, his body now on red alert at the other presence in his bed. A moment later there’s a click of a switch and the lamp on the bedside table switches on, illuminating the room in a warm yellow light, and what Dean sees makes him gasp softly.

This is not his room. This is not his home. He holds his breath as his eyes travel over the soft, muted gray walls and the sleek, stylish furniture. There’s a fan on the ceiling, slowly circulating air throughout the room that Dean knows was not there when he went to sleep.

“I’ve got her,” he hears from the left and Dean would know that voice anywhere: it’s Cas. And he does _not_ sound happy. “Go back to sleep, Dean.”

He watches dumbstruck as Cas gets out of bed and shuffles to the door of the room—their room?—in his boxers, pausing only briefly to grab his bathrobe from the hook on the door. He shrugs it over his shoulders and heads down the hall, presumably towards the source of the crying.

What. The. Fuck.

Through the baby monitor on the nightstand, Dean can hear Cas soothe the baby with soft whispers and coos. Instinctively, he reaches under his pillow, searching for a knife, a gun, any sort of weapon, but there’s nothing there between the crisp white sheets. Fear spikes through him; he knows that when his head hit the pillow in the bunker last night, he had a knife under there, always has something to protect himself with close at hand, just in case. But wherever he is now, he’s not only sleeping in the same bed as Cas, but apparently he doesn’t even take the appropriate steps to keep them safe.

He’s growing more confused with every second that passes. Dean needs some answers and he needs them _now_. But if this is a djinn dream or something, asking Cas about things that go bump in the night and his sudden appearance in the apple pie life could just wind up making him look crazy. He doesn’t exactly have a lot of other options here, though. So with a deep breath to calm his rapidly beating heart, Dean gets out of bed and goes in search of Cas.

The nursery isn’t far, only the bathroom between the room and their bedroom. But when he gets to the doorway, he hesitates. Watching Cas talk softly to the swaddled baby in his arms stirs something in his chest, a longing for something Dean didn’t even know he wanted.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Cas murmurs and presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Dad’s here and Papa came home too. We’re not going anywhere, I promise. Nothing bad is going to happen to you.” The baby whimpers, crying out softly. “Calm down, honey. I know you’re tired, but that just means you should go back to sleep.”

Dean doesn’t want to interrupt, but it’s the only way he’s going to figure out what’s going on.

“Uh…Cas?”

He levels Dean with a displeased glare. “I told you to go back to bed, Dean. Considering you left both of us on our own for the past week, I think I’m perfectly capable of taking care of our daughter without your help.”

“Our…daughter,” Dean replies, dumbstruck. It’s the obvious explanation, but the thought of it still sends him reeling. Because really, who thought it would be a good idea for him to be someone’s _parent_? “Okay. That’s a…thing?”

Cas’ glare turns murderous. “Adopting a child was not _my_ idea, Dean. You’re the one who pressed for children. I know it’s a big adjustment, but if I had understood just how much I was going to have to fight you about this, I think I would have pushed for us to wait a little longer.”

“Cas…I’m—”

“I know,” Cas cuts him off. “I know you’re sorry. But that doesn’t change anything right now.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. The baby in his arms is almost asleep at this point, her eyes mostly closed and her fist resting on her lip.

Carefully, Cas lowers her back into the crib. “C’mon,” he murmurs, placing a hand on Dean’s elbow to guide him back down the hall. Back in their bedroom, Cas closes the door quietly, but firm behind them both. “Faith doesn’t need to see us arguing before she’s even a year old.”

“Cas,” Dean pleads again, desperation creeping into his voice and Cas seems to finally clue into the fact that something’s not right.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen during the hunt?” And okay, that’s a weight off his chest. Even if Dean’s woken up in Bizarro World, monster hunting is still his gig.

“When I went to sleep last night, we were living in the bunker,” Dean blurts out. The shift in Cas’ facial expression is subtle but it’s there—from shocked to worried to thoughtful in the blink of an eye. But while Dean’s been internally panicking since he opened his eyes, Cas is a rock, patiently waiting for Dean to finish his explanation. “We had just found a case a few states away, typical salt and burn shit, but this ghost was terrorizing this young couple, so it needed to be taken care of. We finished the background research, you, me, and Sam, and then, before it got too late—we needed to leave first thing—we said good night and went to bed. In separate rooms. With no children around, belonging to us or otherwise.”

“We haven’t lived in the bunker for three years now,” Cas tells him, a strange, strangled undertone in his voice, and okay, maybe Cas is freaking out just as much as Dean is. “We moved because you said we couldn’t have a family and live in an underground cave like a bunch of ‘mole people.’”

The intervening years have seemingly not broken Cas from his habit of making air quotes with his fingers.

“So like…we’re together?” Dean asks and Cas flinches so hard at the question Dean’s surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. “Sorry.”

“No it’s fine. I…forgot that we haven’t been romantically involved all that long. Not really.”

“How long?”

“Four years now. Married for two.”

“Okay,” Dean reasons, taking a deep breath. “That’s a…that’s a good chunk of time.”

“We’d known each other about twice as long before we made that shift in our relationship.”

“I’m sorry, dude. Really. I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around all of this.” Dean sits down on the corner of the bed, shock setting in. “I went to sleep and we were just friends—good friends, but still. Purely platonic relationship there. Next thing I know, we’re together and we have a kid! I’m freaking out here and to be honest, I’m not entirely sure this isn’t some kind of dream or spell or something.”

“Well I think it’s safe to say that there’s some sort of supernatural force at work here,” Cas remarks as he heads over to the nightstand. He opens the drawer and rummages around in it for a moment before pulling out a small flask and a silver knife. He tosses the flask to Dean, who fumbles with it a little but ultimately catches it, and then comes back around to stand in front of him. He pushes the arm of his robe up and presses the blade to his skin.

“Hey! No!” Dean protests. “That’s not necessary, Cas.”

“It’ll make you feel better,” Cas reasons, dragging the blade along his arm, making a small cut, but otherwise having no reaction. “Flask,” he demands and Dean hands it over, switching to holding the knife.

“Holy water?” Dean questions and Cas nods as he takes a gulp with no adverse effects.

“Not a shifter, not a demon,” Cas declares sitting back down on the bed next to Dean. “If this is a djinn dream, well, I can only hope that you didn’t get attacked by such an amateur that we both have the ability to comprehend it as an option. They’re usually much better at manipulation.”

Dean stares at the knife in his hand for a moment before turns it on himself, making a small cut along his arm, just as Cas did.

“Dean,” Cas admonishes but Dean shrugs it off.

“Fair’s fair, Cas. You were right, it made me feel better, but I’d bet my left nut that this’ll make you feel better too.” He gestures for Cas to return the holy water flask to him. “You’ve got a daughter to look out for now, after all.”

“ _We_ have a daughter,” Cas corrects, sadness lurking in his eyes. “You really don’t remember her at all?”

“I don’t even know what year it is,” Dean admits, wiping away the moisture on his lips left by the holy water with the back of his hand.

“2020,” Cas informs him with a sigh.

“Well, that’s something at least.”

“We should probably get some rest.”

Dean can’t help but laugh at the suggestion. “Dunno about you, but I’m probably not gonna get anymore sleep tonight. Too scared I’m gonna wake up in 2025 the next time I open my eyes.”

“I’ll go make some coffee, then.”

“I can help,” Dean offers but Cas shakes his head.

“If it’s alright with you, I think I’d like to be alone for a bit.” And oh, does that sting just a little bit. “And uh, I’ll call Sam when the sun is up.”

* * *

 

Sun up sees Dean and Cas sitting at the kitchen table, staring into mugs of coffee that have gone tepid with time. Cas called twenty minutes ago and told Sam to come over as soon as possible. Always able to read between the lines, Sam had promised to get dressed and out the door in ten minutes.

“He’s not far,” Cas breaks the silence. “He lives by himself on the other end of town, closer to the university.”

“University?”

Cas nods. “He’s uh, a part time student. Working on a degree in anthropology. Fills the rest of his time working as a handyman or helping you in the shop.”

“And I…”

“Have your own carpentry business.”

“Seriously?” Dean asks, agog.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Dean,” Cas replies seriously.

“Wood’s just…never been my thing, that’s all.” Dean’s quick to justify his surprise. “Was always better with mechanical stuff.”

“Well, I’ll admit your first few efforts were…not the greatest,” Cas concedes reaching out and taking Dean’s hand in his, tracing over his palm with his calloused fingers. Dean shivers slightly at the contact. “But you are a quick learner and good with your hands.”

“When did you become such a sweet talker?” Dean asks playfully, heart warm with Cas’ praise in a way he can’t fully explain. But his levity seems to strain whatever tentative camaraderie they’ve established and Cas pulls away, turning his gaze back to his coffee cup.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “It’s just a struggle to adjust to how our relationship is now.”

“You mean the relationship I don’t remember.”

“Yes. It’s difficult to change my behavior. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Dean wants to say that it doesn’t, but the situation is so out of left field that there isn’t much about it that he’s not uncomfortable with. It’s not Cas, not really. Everything just feels too sudden, too different. He feels like a stranger in his own home, in his own body, and Dean’s not sure he can handle worrying about him and Cas right now when he’s still struggling with himself.

So when Cas touches him with the nonchalance of familiarity, Dean can’t help but tense up. For Cas, after four years, all touches are allowed, are old hat. Just another facet of their lives. But for Dean, without five years of memories, it’s too much, too soon, something that he still thinks he doesn’t get to have.

“So uh. How did that all come about?”

“Our relationship?” Cas clarifies and Dean nods his agreement. “I’m afraid that’s a story longer than we have time for. Sam will be here any minute.”

“Right. Okay. But…you’ll tell me eventually?”

Cas is silent for a moment and Dean’s sure that he’s stuck his foot in it.

“Dean, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m really hoping I won’t have to.”

“Oh. Okay. Sure.”

When Sam finally arrives—looking a little older and more harried, hair still too long and a little unkempt—he takes one look at Dean, whole and physically undamaged, and sighs in relief.

“Oh thank God,” he says, collapsing into the chair between Cas and Dean at the kitchen table.

“What did you even say to him?” Dean asks.

“Not much,” Sam answers. “Just said you got back from the hunt—the one I told you not to go on, not by yourself at least—and that something had gone wrong.”

“And you didn’t think to give him a bit more information?”

Cas shrugs. “It’s early; we haven’t really slept. I honestly didn’t think about how it would sound. I apologize for worrying you, Sam.”

“It’s fine, Cas.” Sam clasps Cas’ upper arm and squeezes “So what’s going on?” Sam eyes dart between them, waiting to see who’s going to speak first.

“Well, you see,” Dean starts, wincing a little as he contemplates how to explain his amnesia to his little brother. “Last thing I remember is going to sleep in the bunker with you, ready to set off for a hunt the next day. Next thing I know, I wake up and I’m apparently married to Cas and we have a kid.”

Sam takes the news surprisingly well, which speaks volumes for how much fucked shit they’ve dealt with over the years. Compared to an apocalypse, memory loss isn’t exactly a big deal. “Which hunt?”

“I dunno, Sam. Some ghost out in Utah. It’s been something like five years since then, if Cas is telling the truth.” Cas frowns at the jibe, but doesn’t respond.

“If it’s the hunt I think it is, then yeah, that definitely isn’t connected,” Sam says, his face contemplative. “It was pretty straight forward, to be honest. I remember thinking it was kind of nice.”

“So it has to be from the last hunt you went on,” Cas surmises.

Dean shrugs. “I guess so. I’m not really in a position to disagree, am I?”

“Could you have hit your head?” Sam asks. “Amnesia isn’t that uncommon a side effect of blunt force trauma.”

“But five years? And only five years?” Dean points out and Sam pulls a face.

“It’s possible. I’m just trying to help.”

“Dude, this has hinky written all over it! We’re the Winchesters. When it comes down to the causes of our problems being supernatural or non-supernatural, it’s almost never something as normal as _blunt force trauma_.”

“I’m just ruling out other options before we jump to the weird stuff, okay? No sense in combing through lore if all you need is to go to the hospital.”

Dean sighs and changes the subject, surly. “What was this hunt that neither of you wanted me to do, anyways?”

“There was a series of dead men in New Jersey. Found drowned with their tongues cut out,” Cas says.

“So Sam thought it was too dangerous to do on my own, despite the fact that I’ve looked into things way spookier all by myself before. And you were just pissed that I was hunting at all, if I got your rant from before straight? Cool. Glad to know you all think I’m not up to the job.”

“My issue was not with thinking you couldn’t handle it, Dean,” Cas snaps, exasperated. “My issue was with you hunting monsters while we’ve only had our child a month. Parental leave is a joke in this country and it won’t be long before we both go back to work and Faith gets raised in a day care. But instead of spending time with your family, you chose to take off on a hunt countless miles and four states away, risking life, limb, and apparently your memory, when you could have easily handed it off to someone else!” Slamming his hand against the table, Cas pushes himself up from his chair and storms out of the room. In the wake of his exit, Dean sits gobsmacked.

“I didn’t…realize,” he admits, sneaking a glance over at Sam who doesn’t look surprised. He’s clearly overheard this argument before.

“Look,” Sam says, “he’s just scared. I’m not saying he’ll get over it, but he’ll definitely forgive you. You might need to grovel a bit first, but he definitely will.”

“It’s hard to grovel when I don’t even remember us being in a relationship.”

Sam blanches. “Oh man. You guys have been together so long, I didn’t even think of that.”

“That’s a pretty big detail to forget about Sam!”

Sam shrugs off Dean’s ice. “You guys were pining so hard for each other before you got together that I honestly stopped paying attention to your relationship after a while. Hell, you two were official for about three weeks before I picked up on it.”

“I’m not pining for Cas!” Dean protests.

“No, you’re married to him and you guys just adopted a child. You’re long past the pining stage.” Sam gets up from the table. “Look, I have class today, but then I’ll spend some time looking into amnesia spells or cursed objects or something. You can help, if you want—I’ll swing by once I’m done for the day—and then I’ll head down to New Jersey this weekend, poke around a bit and see what I can find out. The two are probably connected.”

“I’ll go with you,” Dean insists. “To New Jersey. If I shouldn’t be hunting alone, neither should you.”

“Yeah, but you already left Cas and Faith alone for one week. I don’t care if you don’t remember, you leave again and I’m not sure you’ll have a home to come back to,” Sam snorts. “I know you’ve never liked it when I messed in your relationship, but I can’t in good conscience let you go.”

“It’s my memories,” he argues. “It’s my life. My marriage, apparently. You just expect me to sit on the sidelines while you solve my problems?”

“Yes! Besides, it’ll be way too suspicious, you showing up again, asking the same questions, but with a different ID. As it is, I’ll have to come up with something good as to why the authorities need to look into the story again. If it starts to feel like something I can’t handle, I’ll call the network, get some back up. But you should stay here, spend some time with your family.” Dean slumps in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, at Sam’s pronouncement. Sam rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna go say goodbye to Cas and my niece. I’ll call you later.” He exits the kitchen then, leaving Dean alone in the room. With a sigh, Dean cradles his face in one hand as he continue to struggle to wrap his head around the situation.

He and Cas are married. And they have a kid. And Dean desperately wishes he could remember all that happening. Because Sam wasn’t wrong. Dean’s definitely been pining for Cas. He’s been in love with Cas for so long, he can’t remember when it began. He just never thought he’d get to have him. The knowledge of that makes him uneasy—it’s too good to be true. Dean’s definitely not worthy of Cas—angel, human or anything in between. This argument about his hunting only make that clearer. Because Dean has it all and he’s still managed to fuck it up.

He hears the front door close, signaling Sam leaving. It’s followed by the footsteps of Cas returning to the kitchen, with the baby in his arms. Carefully, Cas places her in the high chair at the table and then goes to the fridge, presumably to find food.

“Ba!” Faith chatters, face open and bright. She’s got a tuft of brown hair on her head and big blue eyes and the chubbiest cheeks. Dean can’t fight the soft smile that tugs at his lips so he doesn’t try to. He holds out his finger to her and she grasps it in her tiny hand and tugs. “Ba!”

“Yeah, pretty girl. Ba,” Dean confirms. Cas places a small container of pureed bananas and a spoon on the table in front of him.

“We started to wean her on to solid food,” Cas tells him. “She’s six months old.”

“She seems small for six months, but my only real frame of reference is Sam. He wasn’t exactly a small child,” Dean says, opening the bananas and dipping the spoon into it. Cas sits down on the other side of the high chair. Neither of them make eye contact. Dean can’t help but wonder how sitting in the same room as Cas—his best friend and apparently, his husband—can be so awkward. “When did we get her?”

“About a month ago. We’ve been on the list for a while; it took some time to jump through some of the social worker’s hoops.”

“And her real parents?” Den asks, offering a spoonful of food to the baby, who eats it without a fuss.

“We’re her real parents,” Cas insists and Dean flicks his gaze over to him. There’s a hint of irritation in the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, but the fondness in his gaze is enough for Dean to discount it. “But her birth mother is no longer in the picture. It’s an unpleasant story—neglect and drugs. It all worked out in the end.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean says after a pause.

Cas practically jumps to his feet, futzing around the kitchen in an unsubtle attempt at avoidance. “What for?” he asks as he opens up cabinet after cabinet. “Do you want some cereal too?”

“I’m sorry for going hunting when you didn’t want me to. For losing my memory.”

“Cereal, Dean?” Cas presses, ignoring his apology.

“Cas, I’m serious.”

“Yes and I’m choosing to ignore that right now. Do you want breakfast or not?” He asks one more time, pulling the milk out of the fridge.

“I’m good,” Dean responds, an edge creeping into his voice at Cas’ clear dismissal.

“Suit yourself.”

“Do we normally do this or are you making an exception? Because honestly, I’m trying here. This isn’t easy for me.”

“It’s been a very long night, Dean. A very long week, really. We’ll talk about it more once I’ve had some sleep.”

“I”m asking for forgiveness, Cas, not for breakfast! Would it kill you to just put your anger aside for a second? We have bigger things to worry about!”

“We’re not talking about this right now. Not in front of Faith.”

“She’s six months old,” Dean hisses.

“Yes, and she’s already experienced far too much.”

“She has no idea what’s going on!”

“I’m not letting this slide, Dean. We will not argue in front of our daughter,” Cas insists. “Not now, and hopefully not ever. We are not going to become those parents.”

Cas picks up his bowl of cereal and leaves the room, his posture rigid with anger, his stride quick with fury. A moment later, a door slams from upstairs. Dean sighs into the silence that settles over the house. Next to him, Faith pouts and gurgles, displeased that the food has stopped coming.

“Yeah, alright kiddo. You do need a balanced breakfast.” Dean picks up the spoon again from where its resting in the jar of baby food and resumes the feeding.

Once Faith is full and Cas does not magically appear to rejoin them, Dean cleans up the baby and then picks her up. “What do you say you and me do a little exploring, huh?” Dean asks her seriously and she coos at him in response. “Yeah that’s what I thought. C’mon, Indy, let’s go see if we can’t find the holy grail.”

Walking through the house is like an out of body experience. Logically, Dean knows that he should feel some sort of connection to everything around him but the tchotchkes on end tables, the pictures on the walls, the furniture placed carefully in each room leaves him feeling nothing but empty. His and Cas’ entire life is around him from decor to possessions and none of it resonates within him at all. It may as well belong to someone else all together.

After taking quick detour into the nursery to change Faith’s diaper, Dean climbs back down the stairs (definitely not paying attention to how the master bedroom door stays resolutely shut) and wanders into the small library just off the family room. He places Faith down in the little playpen on the floor that has some toys for her to play with and carefully goes through the bookshelves for some research. There are some good choices to pick from on spells and cursed objects, books he recognizes clearly from the Men of Letter’s archive, but instead of picking any of those titles off the shelf, Dean’s gaze locks on the off-white book with the words ‘Year One’ embossed in gold along the spine.

Pulling it off the shelf, he settles in at the desk and opens the cover. On each page photos are carefully arranged shots of Sam and Dean in the bunker, images of Dean and Cas sleeping on the sofa, pictures of Dean half dressed in his Fed costume, looping a tie around his neck, in some nondescript motel room. There are photos posing in front of roadside attractions—the largest ball of twine, world’s largest Paul Bunyan, the Sasquatch Museum, the Giant Pheasant—places Dean’s seen more than once on his many trips across the country. In each of them, he’s got an arm around Cas’ shoulders, both of them smiling stupidly at the camera. With the flip of each page, Dean’s heart grows heavier.

He hates that he’s missing all of this in his head, hates that he’s missing his entire life with Cas. It looks like a good life. A _happy_ life. It’s not fair that he doesn’t remember experiencing it. And yeah, maybe it’s his own fault, not knowing when to say when, unable to satisfy that itch under his skin any other way. But it’s just so goddamn unfair, for him to finally get his happy ending but not being able to remember getting it.

“Don’t torture yourself,” Cas says, not unkindly, startling Dean out of his own thoughts. He’s been so absorbed in the pictures that he didn’t even hear him come in. Cas puts his hand over the page Dean’s gaze was last locked onto and pulls the book towards him, closing it and putting it back on the shelf.

“What if I never remember?” Dean asks.

“Then I will hold your hand and go through all our photo albums, page by page, and tell you about each and every picture you want to hear about. And after that, we’ll go out and make some new memories.”

“I screwed up Cas,” Dean acknowledges.

“Yes, you did,” Cas agrees, moving to stand next to Dean at the desk. “But the world isn’t ending, no one is dead, you are, physically at least, in one piece. You came home to me, just like you promised. And I may have been angry and scared and frustrated by your decision to chase after danger but you came back. That counts for a lot.”

“Is this you forgiving me for being a dumbass?”

Cas chuckles softly. “I suppose so. I’m trying, at least.”

“What changed your mind?”

“It’s amazing what a little sleep, some time to process, and some perspective can do.” Cas places his hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezes. Immediately, the touch eases something inside of Dean. “We’ll figure this out, Dean. We’ve gone up against a lot worse than a little amnesia and come out the other side.”

“We’ll be okay?”

“Always.” In her playpen, Faith is conked out, fast asleep on her back, her peaceful, chubby face softening his heart. He chances a glance at Cas to see if he’s just as enamored with their daughter as he is, but Cas isn’t looking at her; he’s staring at Dean instead. He’s no stranger to locking eyes with Cas, but every time it happens, he’s caught off guard by the sharp tug of want that blooms in his gut. Unconsciously, he leans toward him, his head knocking lightly into Cas’ torso. Cas’ hand comes up from his shoulder, ruffles through Dean’s hair, feeling just as good as Dean always thought it would. It’s far too short an experience though. Abruptly, Cas’ hand stills and Dean can feel him tense up. Carefully, he removes his hand from Dean’s person and takes a step back to put some space between them.

“I’m sorry,” Cas says, clearing his throat.

“For what?” Dean demands, a little stung by Cas’ quick retreat.

“I was being…overly familiar.”

“Yeah, but I’m your husband. Pretty sure that’s alright.”

“But you’re not, Dean. You don’t remember being involved with me. I don’t want to push your boundaries.”

“You’re not,” Dean insists even as Cas gives him a skeptical look. “Do I look uncomfortable to you?”

“I suppose not,” Cas concedes.

“Dude, I may not remember being married to you, but we’ve been friends for a long time. If I don’t like something, I’ll let you know.”

Cas sighs. “While I’ve no doubt that you’ll speak your mind should I overstep, I just…I worry. I don’t want to drive you away by accidentally pushing for something you’re not ready for.”

“We’re _married_ , Cas.”

“And that does not mean that I am entitled to casual intimacies. It took us a long time to get here, Dean. You may not remember that, but I do,” Cas declares and heads over to Faith, still snoozing in her play pen. “We shouldn’t let her sleep too long or she’ll never sleep tonight. Besides, it’s almost lunch time.” Dean glances at the clock and sees that it’s 11:45 and his eyes bug a little. He hadn’t realized he’d been in the room that long. No wonder Faith fell asleep. Dean’s surprised she didn’t start to fuss.

Cas takes the baby and leaves, heading toward the kitchen. Dean pushes away from the desk to follow them, hoping that he’s reading too much into the fact that Cas apparently can’t stand to stay in the same room as him. Because in light of that last conversation, it’s starting to feel like Cas is the uncomfortable one here.

* * *

 

Sam calls at quarter past four, finished with his classes, and raring to go. Considering how foreign and alien everything around him feels, it’s a relief to know that some things never change. He comes over and Dean pulls down off the shelf all the books he skipped over earlier in favor of the photo albums and they get to work at the kitchen table. Cas doesn’t join them; instead, he stays with Faith in the living room, the television playing an awful daytime talk show while he folds their laundry. With Sam at his side, he doesn’t feel the separation so acutely. Cas may be angry and scared and standoffish, but Sam is the same comforting presence he always is.

The hours stretch on, their focus on the information in front of them. The television playing in the background switches from troubled teens needing some discipline to the local news. The sun begins to lower in the sky, darkness subsuming the house. At seven pm, Cas deposits Faith in her high chair and opens the fridge to start dinner. When the smell of tomatoes, garlic, and basil hangs heavy in the air, Sam sighs and closes the book in front of him. “I think it’s time to give it a rest for tonight. I don’t know about you, but I’m not getting anywhere.”

“Yeah, same,” Dean agrees, disheartened. Three hours of work and nothing to show for it.

“Sam, are you staying for dinner?” Cas asks as he chops vegetables for a salad. Dean makes a face at the sight of lettuce and Cas rolls his eyes, fondly.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Sam replies.

“You’re always welcome here, Sam. There’s plenty to go around.”

Dinner is quiet but not uncomfortable. Sam tells them about the work he’s doing in his classes and the girl in his study group who makes muffins for everyone. Cas comes back with updates about friends and neighbors, names that stay unfamiliar to Dean. Dean doesn’t say much, he mostly just listens to Cas and his brother weave the tapestry of their lives, feeling more and more like he’s getting cut out of the fabric.

At nine, Sam gathers his things, promising to go through the Men of Letters archive after class to see if he can scrounge up any leads on Dean’s memory loss. When Cas takes Faith upstairs for a bath and a feeding before bed, Dean gets left to clean up. He gathers up the books and takes them back to the library before filling the sink up to do the dishes.

Cas finds him at the sink scraping tomato sauce off a pot once he’s done putting Faith to sleep.

“Hey,” he greets, subdued by the disappointments of the afternoon. Cas doesn’t say anything in return, just leans against the kitchen island. When Dean places the pot on the drying rack, he finally speaks.

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch tonight?”

The question comes out of left field, leaving Dean reeling, shocked. He spins around to face Cas. “What? Why would you sleep on the couch? I’m the one in the doghouse.”

“I…don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Cas repeats his sentiments from earlier. “That’s all.”

“Well you sleeping on the couch for no good reason makes me uncomfortable, okay? Hell, I should be asking you if you’re okay with sharing a bed with me. I mean, I’m the same person and everything except…not.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Cas reassures almost too quickly. “Sharing a bed, I mean.”

“Well it doesn’t bother me either,” Dean insists.

“Okay. Good talk.” Cas comes around the other side of the island and starts to dry and put away the pots and pans and dishes Dean’s already washed. They finish washing up and Dean can feel the warmth of domesticity bloom in his chest at having Cas beside him after he was so distant all day. Dean understands—this situation is probably harder on Cas, after all. But he’s deep enough in, even now, five years in the past, that he can admit that he always feels better, safer, more grounded when Cas is around.

Once the dishes are done, they mount the stairs, heading to bed early. When Dean falls asleep, it’s to the quiet sounds of Cas’ snores in his ear and with a smile on his lips.

* * *

 

Unsuccessful in finding a solution, Sam heads to New Jersey on Friday morning.

“You’ll call when you get there,” Dean demands and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Yes, mom.”

“Hey, the last thing we need is both of us to wind up mind wiped.”

“I promise, I won’t be as careless as you.”

“That’s not what I asked!”

“And I’ll call you.”

“Thank you,” Dean grumbles, put upon. He shifts his grip on Faith, scooting her higher onto his waist. She’s watched the whole exchange, fascinated, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. She puts her fist in her mouth and chews on it gently, drooling all down the arm of her pink onesie. Dean wonders if she might start teething soon. He doesn’t remember much from when Sam was that young, but he can clearly remember his frustrated crying as his teeth came in. He’s really not looking forward to going through it with Faith.

“He’ll be fine, Dean,” Cas chimes in, stepping forward to give Sam a hug goodbye. “But I will tell you to travel safe. And be careful.”

“I will, Cas. Promise.” He drops his duffle into the backseat of his awful hybrid—seriously, Dean is ashamed of his brother’s taste in vehicles—and folds himself into the front seat.

Cas and Dean stand in the driveway and watch until the car disappears down the street.

“Well,” Cas breaks the silence a moment later. “We should head inside, I suppose.”

Despite smoothing over some rough edges in the days since Dean woke up without his memory, the air between them is still awkward and strained. It would probably help if they spent some quality time together, but mostly, Dean’s been working hard, researching a way to reverse his amnesia. And Cas, for his part, has cleaned the house three times over in an effort to avoid being in the same room with Dean for longer than it takes to eat a meal. Dean’s not sure how to fix it and every day that passes without his memories only makes it worse. Dean can’t help but hate himself a little bit for doing this to Cas. After all they’ve been through, they deserve a happy ending.

Once inside, Cas, as usual, makes a break for it.

“I’m going out to the garden, if you don’t mind keeping an eye on her.”

“Yeah, no problem.” It’s easier to agree than to fight him, especially when this whole mess is his fault in the first place. Cas all but flees to the backyard and in his wake, Dean sighs, defeated. With nothing else to do, he sits on the floor with Faith and turns on the TV. He chooses some kids program he doesn’t recognize but it’s animated with bright colors and high pitched voices. Faith smiles widely as the opening theme song plays, so Dean figures she’ll be occupied for at least ten minutes. He doesn’t pay attention to what’s happening on the screen;instead, he turns his focus to his daughter.

He may not remember wanting her, but after a few days he’s in love with her all over again. Sometimes, she feels like the only good thing he’s got going right now, what with Cas still standoffish and Sam busy with his own life. But Faith is always happy to see him; she practically lights up when he picks her up. Halfway through the program, she starts to fuss, and Dean figures she’s probably hungry; it’s almost lunchtime.

“What do you say you and me scrounge up something to eat, huh?” Dean asks her as he slowly gets to his feet. Faith screeches in response and Dean supposes that’s as much of an acceptance as anything else. Dean takes her to the kitchen, deposits her in the high chair and opens the fridge; it’s empty.

“Well I guess that’s what we’re gonna do,” Dean says with a considering look at his daughter. Taking her to the grocery store is probably not the greatest of ideas, but he doesn’t really want to clash with Cas by asking him to take her. He did say he’d watch her, after all, and Dean feels like going back on even the smallest of promises right now is not going to help their relationship. Besides, they’ve been cooped up in the house for days. Faith’s probably getting as restless as he is.

Decision made, he leaves a note on the table to let Cas know where they’re going, and they head out to the store.

Dean’s always enjoyed grocery shopping. Growing up, it meant being able to afford actual food and staying in one place long enough to bother with a kitchen. As much as he’s always griped about Sam’s obsession with rabbit food, he’ll admit a home cooked meal is a delicacy after weeks of road food. It’s another way he’s been able to take care of Sam, take care of his family. It’s even more comforting to him now; he may not remember the family he has now, but he sure as hell can at least make sure they have something to eat for dinner.

Faith, for her part in this expedition, is content to watch from her seat in the basket, the people and sights fascinating. He gets as far as the produce department when he hears someone call his name.

“Dean!” The short woman with blonde hair exclaims, pushing her cart over towards him. “I didn’t expect to see you out and about. I figured you and Cas would be too tired to leave the house, adjusting to having this little one.” She reaches out and softly tickles Faith’s stomach, causing the baby to screech with laughter. “Is Cas with you?”

Dean has no idea who this suburban soccer mom is, but it’s not like he can tell her that without having to explain why. Unfortunately, ‘an unknown supernatural force wiped the last five years of my memory’ does not go over well with civilians. So he forces a smile on his face and does his best to play along.

“No, uh Cas stayed home. But I figured we could use a little outing while he poked round in his garden.”

“Probably for the best—we know how Cas is about his vegetables,” the woman jokes.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean agrees as he works hard to keep the puzzled expression off his face.

“The tomatoes he gave us last year were superb, though. Howard and I were _raving_ about them for weeks after, you know.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Have they come in yet this year? If you’ve got any extra, me and Howie would love to have some.”

“I’ll have to ask,” Dean hedges. “Cas will give you a call.”

“Wonderful. So how’s life been with this precious bundle around?”

“Faith’s great,” Dean replies, fully intending for that to be it, make his excuses and get away. But once he starts, he finds that he can’t stop. It’s almost surprising how many details he’s picked up about his daughter in only a few days, but like any proud papa, he extolls even the smallest of accomplishments. He tells the woman about how Faith is starting to roll over on her own, getting ready to crawl, how she’s starting solid foods, and enjoys playing peek a boo, and how careful they have to be because she wants to stick everything in her mouth. To the woman’s credit, she listens patiently and sincerely and when Dean finally stops talking, her smile is large and genuine.

“I’m so happy for you and Cas. No one deserves to have a happy family more.”

“Thanks,” Dean says, color rising in his cheeks.

“Well, I’l let you get back to your shopping. Please, tell Cas that Howie and I say hello and congrats? You Winchesters have a beautiful daughter, Dean.”

“Thanks. And uh, I’ll tell Cas to call you about those tomatoes.”

“Wonderful.” She kisses him on the cheek before wandering off into the depths of the supermarket.

The rest of Dean’s shopping trip is uneventful. Faith stays well behaved, barring one incident where she starts to fuss a bit in her basket seat. But once Dean picks up her and carries her for a bit, she calms down again. Doing the rest of his shopping one handed is a little difficult, but it’s definitely easier than doing it with a fussy baby crying in the cart.

When Dean arrives home, the house is as quiet as he left it, no sign of Cas having come inside during his absence. He feeds Faith some pureed carrots after he gets all of the groceries in their proper spot. They definitely don’t appears to be her favorite, if the way she resists each bite, no matter how much ‘here comes the airplane’ he plays, means anything. Since Dean can’t get her to eat much more than a couple bites, he gets out a bottle, and gives her milk instead. With Faith fed, he then makes sandwiches for himself and for Cas and heads out to the garden in the backyard.

Their backyard is fairly sizable but the garden—large, lush, full of life—takes up most of it. At the edge of it, close to the sliding glass door that leads outside, they have a small patio table and chairs, as well as a small play area set up for Faith.Carrying a baby and two plates of food at one time is probably not Dean’s brightest idea, but he manages to make it without dropping either baby or sustenance. He sets down his daughter and the food and then heads over to the vegetable patch where Cas is rooting around in the dirt. There’s sweat soaking through his t-shirt and the back of his neck is pink, just starting to burn; Dean figures he probably forgot to put on sunscreen. Dean’s footsteps aren’t soft as he approaches, so he’s not the least bit surprised when Cas turns to face him as he closes in.

“I made some lunch, if you want it.”

Cas smiles. “Food would be good.” He pushes up from the ground and wipes his hands on his pants before they both head back to the patio. As Dean settles into his seat, Cas ducks inside to wash up.

“So I ran into this lady who knows us at the grocery store,” Dean says once Cas is back and seated, teeth sinking into bread as he takes a bite. Chewing, he raises his eyebrows, his expression urging Dean to continue. “Short woman, blonde hair cut into one of those ‘I want to speak to a manager’ styles, married to some dude named Howard, and has a love affair going on with your tomatoes.”

“That would be Linda Johnson,” Cas tells him, amused, after he’s swallowed. “She lives at the top of the street.”

“And we’re _friends_ with her?” Dean asks, incredulous.

“You say that every time we come back from one of the block parties she’s organized. I have to remind you that she’s the best cook on the street.”

“In it for the food, gotcha.”

“She and Howard are actually very nice people, even if they’re a little too white suburban for our usual tastes. Their kids aren’t awful either—they have a son in middle school and a girl about halfway through high school.”

“Well, you need to drop her a line about your tomato crop this year. Because she asked and I had no idea what to tell her.”

“You wouldn’t have, even if you had all of your memories.”

“That’s a bit of a relief.”

“Dean, we got married, but you didn’t get a personality transplant. You’re much the same as you always were. I’m not going to lie and say it isn’t hard that you don’t remember our life together, but the essence of you hasn’t changed in the last five years. If it had, you wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with.”

“Jeez, Cas,” Dean says, dumbstruck.

“Why does that surprise you?”

“Why does what surprise me?”

“That I love you just as much as you love me. It wasn’t a development of the last five years, Dean. It’s been like this for so long I can’t pinpoint the moment it started. It’s just always been this way.”

“Even with all the shit I’ve put you through? The lying and the lashing out and hurting you?”

“Don’t act like you’re the only one at fault in our relationship. I’ve made just as many, if not more mistakes than you. We put that behind us when we got married.”

“Yeah, well despite all that, I’m still making dumb mistakes and hurting you.”

“I don’t want you or expect you to be perfect,” Cas snaps. “This isn’t the first or last big mistake either of us has made or will make. Stop acting like a fucking martyr."

Before Dean snap back and the argument really gets going, his cell rings.

“What?” Dean all but growls as he brings the phone to his ear, redirecting his anger to whoever’s on the other end.

“Dude, you were the one that wanted me to call when I got settled.”

“Sam,” Dean, the rest of the warning unsaid.

“Oh I know that voice,” his brother remarks with an edge of disbelief. “I’ve been gone a few hours and you and Cas are already having trouble in paradise?”

“It’s none of your business, Sammy.”

“I don’t suppose you two would be Dean and Cas without a little arguing,” Sam continues, ignoring Dean’s irritation. “Must be comforting to know at least that much hasn’t changed.”

“Sam, I swear to God, if you don’t drop it, I’m hanging up.”

“Ooo. Touchy.” Sam’s clearly enjoying this far too much.

“Just tell me what’s up with the damn case, okay?”

“Not all that much, to be honest. And there’s another hunter working it, too. Young girl, said her name was Lettie.”

“Do we know her?”

“Name doesn’t ring a bell for me, but I’m not nearly as intertwined in the network as you are. Maybe Cas knows her?”

Dean puts his hand over the speaker and asks, “Hey Cas, we know a hunter named Lettie?”

Cas thinks for a moment, lips pursed, before shaking his head.

“Doesn’t sound familiar, but it’s not too surprising. Hunters aren’t exactly known for being the most social of human beings. I can ask Claire if she’s met her before,” he says, reaching for his phone. “If she’s teamed up with another hunter before, it’s more likely to have been with a woman than a man twice her age.”

Dean nods and turns his attention back to Sam. “Yeah, Cas doesn’t know her either.”

“I’m going to see if she wants to work together so we’re not tripping each other up.”

“Just be careful, alright?” Dean says, unease building in his gut at the idea of his brother working with someone neither of them have vetted before.

“Yeah, I know. I don’t trust her either. But keep your enemies closer, yeah?”

“Gotcha.”

“Look, I’m gonna head to the coroner’s office, see what the autopsy reports say about the bodies that wasn’t reported in the papers. I’ll give you and Cas another call tonight with an update.”

“Alright. Talk to you then, Sammy.”

“And Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever you’re fighting with Cas about, he’s probably right. So say you’re sorry, then kiss and make up.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam responds fondly before hanging up.

“He’ll call later tonight with some more info,” Dean relays to Cas, the phone call having taken the wind out of his sails.

“Mm,” Cas acknowledges, laser focused on finishing off his lunch and clearly trying not to restart their discussion.

“And uh. He also said you’re right about whatever we’re arguing about.”

“Sam is a wise man,” Cas says, a hint of amusement twitching at his lips.

“I just don’t know how to fix it, Cas,” Dean tries to explain. “I want to, but I don’t know how.”

For some reason, this statement causes Cas’ shoulders to slump.

“Dean,” he implores, his gaze wide and boring right into Dean’s own as he takes Dean’s hand. “Dean, it’s not broken.”

Sitting there, his hand clasped between both of Cas’, Dean wishes he could believe that.

* * *

 

“So get this,” Sam says when he calls back again that night, after they’ve dispensed with the usual greetings and small talk. “The link between all of the dead men?”

“Yeah?”

“They were all accused of rape but were never prosecuted, due to lack of evidence.”

“Jeez, I hate it when something that goes bump in the night turns out to be killing bad guys. Makes me feel guilty when we gank it,” Dean says.

“Yeah well, even if it’s killing serial killers, it needs to be stopped.”

“So whatcha thinking? Mermaid? Sea monster? Vengeful spirit?” He brainstorms, as he glances through the titles on the bookshelves for clues to follow.

“I mean, if they were just drowned, I’d be leaning towards a supernatural sea creature, but the whole cutting out their tongues thing? That’s got me stumped,” Sam admits, which is never a good sign. Sam’s always been the one who’s gotten along better with researching. Dean’s the grunt who shoots first and asks questions later. 

“Well, you keep looking down there and I’ll keep looking up here,” he says, pulling down two books off the shelves, one on water spirits, the other on kelpies.

“Thanks, Dean.”

“How’s things going with that other hunter?”

Sam sighs. “I don’t know man. She’s good, knows her stuff. She’s the one that figured out the whole rapist pattern thing. But I’m still not sure if I should trust her.”

“What’s her name again?” Dean asks, picking up a pen so he can jot it down.

“Lettie Rosso. At least that’s what she introduced herself as.”

“And Lettie is short for what? Leticia?”

“I guess? I didn’t ask.”

“Alright,” Dean says as he scrawls her name down on a yellow legal pad. “I’ll take another look, see if I can dig anything up on her. Can you give me a description?”

“Average height, brown hair, brown eyes, slim, mid-twenties. Honestly, she’s pretty unremarkable, which is a good thing in our line of work.”

“Only if she’s one of the good guys, Sam.” Because if she’s not, the her ability to blend into the background is definitely going to make her harder to figure out.

“Look, I’m gonna get back to researching. I’ll give you a call if I find something.”

“Give me a call even if you haven’t,” Dean insists. The whole case is putting him on edge and he’ll be much happier once Sam is home, safe and sound, where Dean can keep an eye on him.

“Dude, I’m a grown man.”

“Yeah a grown man hunting something supernatural with no back up right now. So just…call me okay? Just so I know everything’s alright.”

“Fine. I’ll call you tomorrow. G’night, Dean. Give Cas and Faith my love.”

“I, uh. I will,” Dean says, cheeks flushing at the thought of giving Cas love.

“Ew, not like that, Jerk.”

“Whatever,” Dean says, embarrassed enough to want to change the subject without a fuss. Because he loves Cas. He really does. He’s just not sure what he’s supposed to do about it. 

“You two doing alright?”

“God, Sam, I thought you said I didn’t like it when you stuck your nose into my marriage.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Well stop, okay?” Dean says, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying to quell his irritation.

“I’m just saying, when’s the last time you guys went on a date?” Sam presses.

“I lost five years of my memory, as far as I’m concerned, we’ve _never_ been on a date.”

“There’s no reason you can’t fix that.”

“Sam!” Dean snaps, exasperated.

“Fine, fine! Butting out now,” Sam backs off. “I should get back to work, anyways. I’ve got a class on Wednesday, so I’d like for this to be wrapped up and soon.”

Dean sighs. “Stay safe, okay?”

“I will,” Sam promises. After he’s hung up, Dean drops his phone onto the desk and buries his face in his hands. He knows Sam’s just trying to help but taking Cas on a date would only end in disaster, he’s sure of it. What would they even talk about? What would they even do?

But when he thinks about those photos, the ones of him and Cas, wandering America, so clearly in love, he wants it so bad his heart actually aches. He hates that he lost it for both of them.

He can’t help but think that a date is as good as any place to start trying to get it back. 

* * *

Saturday sees both Dean and Cas making an effort. Dean doesn’t lose himself in useless research and Cas doesn’t hide in his garden. Instead, he calls Linda and Howard while Dean makes French toast and bacon for breakfast. They spend the morning together, reading the paper and swapping sections once they’ve finished. Faith babbles softly to herself in her high chair, content to stay put if it means not getting left out. Once the day starts to turn from morning to afternoon, Dean packs them some lunch and they take Faith to the park a few blocks away in her stroller.

It’s a weekend, so the place is packed. Children are running around in the grass in a giant game of tag, others playing on the brightly colored jungle gym, and parents clustered together in cliques under the covered pavilion in the corner.

“Dean! Cas!” They get greeted the moment they’re within earshot. Dean startles; it’s still strange to him that so many straight laced suburbanites not only know him and Cas but actively seek out their company.

“It’s good to see you, June,” Cas says, kissing a woman on the cheek. She has dark hair speckled with gray at the temples and is rocking a hippy dippy vibe, complete with a peasant style blouse and a tie-dyed bandana in her hair.

“How life with a baby been?” Another woman asks, and just like that, all the middle aged women flock to Cas, eager for news and a look at their daughter. Dean, shuffled to the side, winds up standing among the husbands left behind.

Standing amongst the other men, Dean’s more than a little nervous. The trip to the park was Cas’ idea and Dean didn’t think that he’d abandon him so quickly, leaving him to navigate through social interactions with a large group of people he’s supposed to know but doesn’t. But Cas is surrounded by women, holding Faith carefully on his hip as he talks with them and Dean’s left awkwardly by himself. He forces a smile at the four men around him and he’s just about to make his excuses to go join Cas when one of the guys pats him on the shoulder, friendly.

“Wives, am I right?” he says good-naturedly, but it rubs Dean the wrong way.

“What are you implying, dude?” Dean asks, his face thunderous.

The guy blanches at Dean’s hostile reaction. Clearly having made a misstep, he tries to laugh it off. “Okay, jeez. Someone’s not getting enough sleep.”

“Yeah well, what’s your excuse?” Dean sneers.

“You’ll have to forgive Roger,” one guy interjects, shooting Dean and apologetic look. “Patty kicked him out again so he’s sleeping on my couch until she forgives him.”

“Aw what the hell did you do, Rog? You know Patty’s the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“It’s none of your business, Paul,” Roger snaps.

“Just apologize,” Paul responds frustrated, as if they’ve had this conversation multiple times. Dean makes a mental note to ask Cas about it later.

“Why do you always assume that it’s my fault, huh?” Roger asks.

“Probably because you’re the one sleeping on the couch,” Dean jibes, causing Roger to frown, his expression positively murderous. If Dean hadn’t faced down the supernatural most every day of his life, he might be a little scared at what Roger could do to him. But right now, Roger’s rage only serves to amuse him.

He’s weighing the pros and cons of getting physical with this guy, when the brunette man with thick black glasses breaks the tension.“So! How about those Red Sox, huh? Good game last night.”

“Oh my god, Jeff, they lost by two.”

“Look, we all know I’m not into team sports, Jake,” Jeff retorts, arms crossed over his chest defensively.

“Well no one is asking you to be. You don’t have to try so hard, dude,” Jake says.

“Yeah well if you cavemen ever talked about anything else, maybe I wouldn’t have to.”

As then men start to bicker, Dean steps away. Maybe he’s changed a bit in the five years he’s forgotten, but he’s having a hard time believing that he has anything in common with this group of men. Having had enough of socializing, Dean makes his way over to where Cas is practically holding court. At this point, the women seem to be satisfied with the updates on his daughter and Cas is tell them how his latest knitting project has been put on hold until after he goes back to work in a few weeks.

“Hey babe,” Dean interrupts in a tone of voice that he hopes to God seems normal, but probably comes across as weirdly strained. It’s the nickname that trips him up. He was aiming for nonchalant and casually loving but it comes across feeling forced and uncomfortable on his tongue. From the confused look Cas is giving him, he’s never called him ‘babe’ in the entirety of their acquaintance.

“Yes honey-bear?” He quips back and Dean laughs.

“Fine, I get the point sweet cheeks. Gimme the baby; figure she should be able to have a little more fun than sitting around and watching her papa gab with a group of beautiful women.” The compliment has the intended effect and a couple of the women’s cheeks pink up.

“Oh Dean, always a charmer,” June says with a wide smile as Cas hands Faith over to him.

“I’ll see you ladies later,” he says with a wink before taking Faith out into the playground. He carefully deposits her in one of the bucket baby swings, both of which are empty. The other two seats, the flat panel ones for older kids, are occupied by two girls with tan skin and black braids, egging each other on to see who can get higher. Their competition makes Dean smile a bit, remembering when he and Sammy were kids, as he pushes Faith gently in her seat. She laughs at the movement, arms waving in the air as she and Dean settle into a rhythm.

“She’s sweet,” a woman with dark skin and black hair comments from next to him a few minutes later and Dean jumps slightly. _Stupid_ , he thinks to himself, _Rookie mistake_. He didn’t even notice her approach.“Sorry didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine,” Dean shifts his gaze back to Faith, who’s unbothered by their new company, before his eyes flick over to Cas, still chatting amongst friends. He hadn’t meant to get so focused on her that he blocked out the rest of the world. What if something had happened? It’s completely irresponsible and Dean knows better, has known better for a lot longer than Cas has been in his life.

“Hi Mommy!” One of the girls says, waving from the swing next to them.

“Hi pumpkin,” the woman replies before nodding towards them. “Those are my two. Sofia and Daniela.”

“They certainly seem to be having fun.”

“I’m Gabriela Ramos,” she says and they shake hands. “We moved into the neighborhood a couple months ago, but I don’t recall seeing you around here.”

“Dean Winchester,” Dean replies. “Me and Cas have lived here for a few years but uh, Faith’s new. She’s only been with us for about a month.”

“Well she looks like she’s having a good time too,” Gabriela remarks and his daughter sticks her fist in her mouth.

“Hey hey, don’t do that,” Dean says gently. “Dirty hands don’t go in mouths.”

“Good luck with that. She’s what, six months?” Dean nods. “When Sofia was that age, she stuck everything in her mouth, didn’t matter what it was.”

“Yeah and I guess she clearly survived the germs unscathed, huh?”

“Oh she’s had her share of bugs, not gonna lie, but she’s not any worse for the wear,” she remarks and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“So I’ve got some things to look forward to then, huh?”

“Definitely,” she replies with a grin. “Just you wait until they’re puking their guts up at school or peeing their pants in public. You’ll long for the days of dirty hands in the mouth.”

Dean can’t help but laugh at her easy humor. “So where did you move from?”

“Matt and I lived in New York City for a bit before we moved up to Boston. Now that the girls are getting to be school age, we wanted to get out of the city.”

“I’ve never liked it in cities,” Dean admits. “Me and my brother grew up on the road. Cities always seemed so…confining.”

“Well small town, suburban life has definitely been a bit of an adjustment for us.”

“Not the most welcoming of groups?”

“Oh no,” she reassures him quickly. “Everyone here has been so lovely. It’s just. Everything’s so far away. I’ve got to drive everywhere, even if it’s to get to the store to grab some milk.”

“I’ve always enjoyed driving so I can’t say I mind it much, to be honest. There’s nothing better than just me and my Baby and the open road.”

“And your partner?”

“Cas? Uh, well. At first he hated it. Hated that it took so long, that he was cramped up in a tiny space for hours on end without a break. But I think he grew to love it because I did,” he concludes, thinking about Cas’ Continental. The car isn’t in their garage—where Baby’s covered with a sheet, for Christ’s sake—their practical sedan presumably taking its spot. He adds it to the ever growing list of things to ask Cas about.

“You two seem so sweet together.”

“Thanks?” Dean replies, his eyebrows drawing together as he tries to figure out if he should be creeped out by this suburban mom creeping on him and Cas.

“You guys just seem really in love.”

“We’ve known each other a long time.”

“How did you two meet?”

“He, uh,” Dean stalls, trying to figure out how to phrase it for a civilian. It’s been so long since he met someone new and not in the life, that he hasn’t had to think about it. Surely, Cas and him have a story they feed to the neighbors, but with his memory still wonky, Dean sure as hell doesn’t know what to say. “Got me out of a tight spot years and years ago. He’s basically been around ever since. I guess things changed between us about four years ago, but, honestly, we’d been hovering around it for a…really damn long time.”

Gabriela smiles and there’s something in the expression on her face, an earnest sincerity, that makes Dean flush. He clears his throat.

“No no, don’t be embarrassed. Gosh, it’s just…nice, is all.”

“He’s my best friend,” Dean admits. “Best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling. Me and Matt have been married for eight years and I just don’t know what I’d do without him.” They share a look at this, an understanding that Dean never thought he’d get to have, because he never thought he’d ever find someone to love as much as he loves Cas.

“Making new friends?” Cas calls out, as he approaches. Apparently, he’s finally done with catching up with his knitting circle.

“I hope so,” Gabriela replies, holding out her hand to shake once Cas is close enough. “Gabriela Ramos.”

“I’m Cas. And you’ve met Dean.”

“He was just telling me about how you two met.”

“Mo-om,” one of Gabriela’s daughters interjects. “Watch me jump!”

“I’m watching, Daniela,” she calls out. An aside, “There’s a fifty-fifty chance that she misses her mark and hurts herself, of course I’m freaking watching.”

“Me too!” Her second daughter says. “Watch me too.”

Gabriela rolls her eyes fondly. Both girls jump from their swings, soaring through the air and landing with a thump in the mulch before they come running over to their mother.

“Did you see?” They chorus.

“Yes, I saw.” She glances up at Cas and Dean. “I’ll let you two get back to your day at the park. These two aren’t going to stay still for long.”

Just as predicted, the girls race off towards the other end of the park without another word.

“It was nice to meet you,” Cas says.

“You too. Enjoy them while they’re too little to run,” Gabriela remarks before heading towards the monkey bars, where her girls are now horsing around.

“I don’t know,” Cas says with a fond glance down at Faith, even though it’s just the two of them. “I think I’m up for an adventure.”

* * *

 

Sam may have dropped the subject, but he definitely planted the seed before he did. And in the forty eight hours since their conversation, the idea of taking Cas on a date has bloomed in Dean’s mind, plans taking shape the longer he thinks about it.

Because the thing is, Dean _wants_ to take Cas on a date. He has for so long, he’s honestly amazed at the his restraint up until this point. He’s always been able to talk himself out of it before now; it was easy to justify his cowardice under the guise of not wanting to ruin the most important friendship he’s ever had.

But they’re married now. Cas is a sure thing. And Dean’s run out of excuses to deny himself.

So he takes Cas on a date.

He doesn’t regret it, not really. But he’ll admit that maybe, just maybe, he should have put a little more thought into the whole endeavor. Because honestly, he could have used some more time to prepare himself for the reality of it.

It doesn’t take all that much convincing to get Cas to go out. In fact, once Dean springs the plan on him, complete with already made arrangements for a babysitter to watch Faith, courtesy of Linda Johnson’s daughter Shannon, Cas looked at him with wide, loving eyes and a big smile, agreeing readily.

But from the minute they step in the door, Dean feels like everyone from the hostess to the other diners know he doesn’t belong in a joint like this—one with white tablecloths and cloth napkins. The only reason that Dean doesn’t turn on his heel and bolt is that it’s _Cas_. His presence across the table practically anchors Dean to his chair.

He’s not going to ruin this like everything else in their life.

When he opens the menu, it’s with shaking hands and he fumbles with his words when it’s time to order. Every move he makes feels like the wrong one and when the waiter brings them glasses of wine to drink, Dean gratefully takes a healthy sip. He’s never been much for wine, but at least the alcohol will help to settle his nerves a bit.

Cas doesn’t say much at first—he seems content to let Dean settle down on his own. But by the time they’ve ordered and gotten their appetizers, Dean’s still tense. It’s not that he’s not trying; he really is. But now that he finally has the opportunity to take Cas out properly, to treat him right, the easy conversation that’s always been between them all but disappears.

“You know,” Cas says after a couple stilted and awkward attempts at conversation. “Our actual first date was exactly like this.”

“A disaster?” Dean makes an educated guess, his stomach sinking.

“You tried too hard then too. Took me to a fancy restaurant where the menu was in French and forced yourself to drink wine,” he says, nodding toward the mostly untouched glass of red in front of him.

“We can go, you know,” Dean says with a sigh, taking his napkin off his lap and tossing it onto the table. “You don’t have to humor me.”

“What makes you think I’m humoring you?” Cas asks, taking another bite of his steak. “Besides, the food’s good. Which you’d know if you stopped being so nervous and actually ate something.”

“We’ve just…never been on a date before. I want it to be nice.”

“Dean,” Cas says, exasperatingly fond. “My husband thoughtfully arranged a night out, away from our fussy baby and the ever looming threat of the supernatural hanging over us. It _is_ nice. Now put your napkin back on your lap and eat your food before it gets cold.”

“Yes dear,” Dean quips, smoothing the thick white cloth back over his thighs and forcing a bite of food into his mouth. Once he’s swallowed, he feels Cas loop his socked foot, having slipped out of his shoe, around Dean’s ankle, a comforting reward for a job well done. One bite turns to two turns to three, and the next thing Dean knows, he’s no longer a nervous wreck. Cas’ foot, though, carefully moves higher and the light touch on his calf, his knee, his inner thigh makes him shiver. “Is this what you did last time? To make me relax?”

Cas snorts. “Hardly. I was younger and more willing to let you have your way. We left the restaurant and went to get burgers in a 24 hour diner.”

“Oh,” Dean says, practically deflating. 

“It was a perfect first date. Stop beating yourself up needlessly over an event you don’t even remember.”

“I guess.”

“If we left the restaurant right now and went to the McDonalds down the road I wouldn’t care. The food, the wine, the ambiance? That’s all extra. I’ve got you and that’s all that matters.”

Dean meets Cas gaze and gets pinned by the expression on his face. Because Cas means it. And the realization hits him like a punch in the gut, knocks all the anxiety and self imposed pressure out of him.

“You…how are you even real?”

“I’m pretty sure that God had something to do with it,” Cas replies and Dean laughs softly under his breath. “Now eat your steak."

With the evaporation of his nerves, Dean digs into his meal with gusto and Cas smiles at him, bright and tender.

“You asked me, last week, how this—us—happened,” Cas starts over dessert.

“And if I remember correctly, you said you didn’t want to talk about it,” Dean replies, scooping a spoonful of chocolate mousse into his mouth.

“Well, it’s been almost a week and we’re no closer to solving the issue. And you should know.”

“If you’re okay with talking about it,” Dean says, warily. The last thing he wants to do is make things strained again.

“There was a hunt,” Cas starts. “But I suppose there’s always a hunt.”

“Dude, the fact that I’m semi-retired and living in the suburbs is still throwing me through a loop.”

“To be honest, I still wake up every day, expecting to tackle another world ending problem. These past few years, they’re almost too good to be true.”

“I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Dean admits.

“I know that feeling. Very well. Which is why I think I was so angry about your desire to go on this hunt,” Cas explains. “It just felt like you were inviting trouble in when we were already vulnerable.”

“Well, I did, didn’t I?”

“Dean,” Cas says with an exasperated sigh, “I’m not trying to blame you.”

“No, I know. But it’s true. I fucked up. And I know you’ve worked hard to forgive me, but I’m not willing to forget it yet, okay?”

“Taking responsibility for your actions is one thing. Beating yourself up over your mistakes is another. We’ve talked about this.”

They have, but that doesn’t mean that Dean has to agree. Hell, if he were in Cas’ shoes, he wouldn’t be nearly as understanding about the whole mess. To be honest, Dean’s lucky that all he’s had to deal with is some avoidance and a couple flares of temper on the subject. Because if Cas had gone off and recklessly lost all the memories of their shared life, the one that they finally had a chance to build together, well, Dean would be _pissed_. He’s fortunate that Cas is Cas and wants what’s best for him. But Dean’s never going to be able to forgive himself, to move on from this, until he fixes it, no matter how long it takes.

“So there was a hunt,” Dean forcibly changes the subject. Cas gives him a disapproving look, but lets it slide.

“There was a hunt,” he agrees. “Things had been pretty quiet for us for a while. I, for one, was thankful, as it gave me a chance to adjust to the loss of my grace. We had been hunting together for a while, you, me, and Sam; it’s no surprise that we work well together, after all these years of friendship.

“And during this hunt, everything went according to plan. There were some scrapes and bruises, but no serious injuries. We saved a young girl’s life. Stopped a group of vampires from draining her dry. It was our turn to share a room and when I came out of the shower that night, you were sitting on my bed, waiting for me.”

“And I told you I was madly in love with you?”

Cas scoffs. “Of course not, Dean. You’ve always been more of a man of action than a man of words. What you did say, though, is that you were tired, bone tired. Everything had gone right, you see, but you were just. You were done.

“Obviously, as evidenced by our current situation, things have changed again. I honestly don’t think you’ll ever truly be done with hunting and that’s okay. But in that moment, you needed a break, you needed to put yourself first for once. So you let me take care of you. I stripped you down until you were in nothing but your underwear and one of your ratty old t-shirts. Then we went to sleep, bodies pressed up against each other; you held my hand the whole night. And after that, well. Things just shifted, I guess.”

“Things…shifted?”

Cas shrugs. “Yes. All of us got into the Impala in the morning and we took off. We didn’t look for hunts, although sometimes we stumbled upon them anyways, and we spent some time taking care of whatever supernatural force was at play. You took me to the Pacific Ocean and then to the Atlantic. We visited ridiculous roadside attractions. We went to the Grand Canyon. Sam made a list of all the National Parks and we did our best to get to as many of them as we could. I think we got to about thirty six out of the fifty eight. Every night, we’d share a bed and we moved on from cuddling to kissing to sex at our own pace.

“We’d take week long breaks at the bunker, do our laundry, binge watch television and movies; you’d be sprawled out on the couch, your head in my lap, and I would run my fingers through your hair. Sam and I would go running in the morning and when we’d come back, you made breakfast for us. You’d steal bacon off of my plate, even when you had plenty on your own. You tried to teach me how to cook and, while largely unsuccessful, I did learn something.

“After about a year of wandering around, we did pick hunting back up, but it wasn’t the continuous, apocalyptic slog that it had been before. We spent time manning the phones for other hunters, helped out younger hunters with research. You mentored a couple of them; let them take the reigns, but tagged along with them to give them advice and a safety net. We only investigated things that we thought were interesting, passed the rest on to others. Things were…well. Things were good.”

“But?”

“No buts Dean. Things were good. Things are good. I’d be lying if I said it was all smooth sailing, but I have no regrets. We got married two years ago, moved out here. We wanted children and for them to have a decent home instead of an underground bunker in middle America filled with dangerous artifacts. Sam got into the University up here and it just. It made sense. And then we committed to trying to adopt and that meant giving up hunting entirely, at least while the social worker was watching.

“The past few months, you’ve been restless and you haven’t had an outlet. And I’ll admit I haven’t been the most understanding.”

“Cas.”

“No, Dean. I know you seem to think I’m some kind of saint for loving you, but I’m not perfect. I’m stubborn and I hold a grudge and I never do the grocery shopping. I’m human now and I’m so thankful for that because it means that my fuck ups are no longer on an apocalyptic scale. But it also means that you need to stop putting me up on a pedestal.”

The waiter arrives with the check then, cutting off the response that’s building on Dean’s tongue.

“So you’re just going to let me pay the bill with no fight?” Dean quips, placing the credit card with his actual name down in the pocket of the black folder.

“We have a joint checking account,” Cas says with a laugh.

In the car, on the way home, Cas takes Dean’s hand and laces their fingers together. Bringing his entwined hands up to his lips, he places a soft, sweet kiss on Dean’s knuckles. The warmth of his touch travels up Dean’s arm, spills out into his chest, until it feels like his heart is going to burst.

Dean doesn’t think he’s ever felt more loved, more adored in his entire life.

* * *

 

The first time Sam misses a check in, Dean almost doesn’t notice. He’s neck deep in some books on water deities and balancing that with taking care of Faith and spending time with Cas isn’t exactly easy. So when he finishes for the night, closing his laptop and putting his books back on the shelf, it’s no surprise that time has gotten away from him a bit. The display on his cell phone reads 9:33 pm in crisp white numbers and Dean frowns, slightly concerned that there isn’t a missed call or a text message from his brother. But Dean knows from years of experience that things come up on the job that can prevent a hunter from picking up the phone and checking in.

He goes to sleep that night, making a mental note to call Sam in the morning.

He forgets to call when he wakes up. Faith gets fussy over night again, and after calming her down, Dean can’t get himself back to sleep. So he starts up the coffee maker, picks up a book off the shelf, and goes back to researching. The sun rises and so does Cas, breakfast is had, but Dean’s head stays buried in his research until midmorning when he stumbles upon the information that breaks the case.

Dean's eyes widen as he reads translation of the poem, his hands frantically reaching out for his cellphone to call Sam. But Sam doesn’t pick up. Worry settles deep and heavy in his gut with every ring. Anxious, he calls again immediately after it rolls into voicemail. He chews on his thumbnail as he waits, counting out each ring, but when Sam’s prerecorded voice tells him to leave a message, Dean knows something’s wrong.

“Call me when you get this, Sam,” he barks into the phone, even though he knows it’s no use. Sam’s not ever going to get his message.

He doesn’t waste any time after that. Grabbing the book off the table, he shouts for Cas, as he climbs the stairs to begin packing.

“Dean?” Cas calls back, “Is everything alright?”

“Up here!” He shouts, hauling out his duffle bag from the top shelf of the closet. Cas appears in the doorway and his eyes widen as he observes Dean stuffing clothes haphazardly into his bag.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sam’s not answering.”

“Dean, Sam’s a capable hunter—“ Cas starts to placate but Dean cuts him off.

“Sam missed his check in last night and he’s not answering now.”

“It could be—“

“Cas, I cracked the case. I’ve called him three times. And he won’t pick up.” Abandoning packing for a moment, Dean picks up the book he’d been reading and shoves it into Cas’ hands.

Cas’ brow furrows in adorable confusion as he reads the title out loud, “An Encyclopedic History of Minor Water Deities. That’s…oddly specific.”

“Pretty sure it’s from the library in the bunker. Men of Letters were a oddly specific bunch. That’s not the point though,” he says, taking the book back and flipping it open to the right page. “Look.”

“Lara, a naiad in Greek mythology, also known as Larunda,” Cas reads out, “is the daughter of the river Almo. Known for her beauty, as well as her inability to keep secrets, she was punished by Zeus when she told his wife of one of his affairs. Zeus cut out her tongue and ordered Hermes to escort her to the gateway of the underworld. However, along the way, Hermes fell in love with Lara and forced his affections upon her. She fell pregnant and gave birth to the Lares. Ovid’s poem _Fasti_ recounts her fate below.”

“The only thing that doesn’t fit is my memory loss,” Dean says, once Cas is finished with the entry. “But everything else—everything, Cas. The drowning and the cutting out of tongues, hell, even the rapists—is right there.”

“It’s possible your amnesia has nothing to do with this,” Cas says, understanding dawning in his eyes. “We’ve been operating the whole time under the impression that whatever you were hunting in New Jersey was the same thing that caused it. But it could very well be an entirely separate issue.”

“Exactly! There are two creepy crawlies in the same place and that can’t be a coincidence. They have to be working together.”

“Well we know what one of them is now,” Cas says, tapping the page. “Figuring out what the second creature is shouldn’t be too hard; they have to be related somehow. Probably another naiad.”

“Yeah, but Sam thinks he’s only hunting one!” Dean blurts out, frustrated. “And now he’s not picking up his phone. Cas, he’s in trouble. I know he is.”

“Okay,” Cas agrees calmly. “You finish packing your bag and I’ll get Faith’s things together. We’ll—“

“We?”

“Well, you’re certainly not going back to New Jersey by yourself,” Cas says with an unimpressed roll of his eyes.

“Thank you,” Dean says, relieved. “I thought for sure—“

It’s Cas turn to cut Dean off. “If Sam’s in trouble, I’m sure as hell not going to stay home with the baby and leave you to it. We’re a team, Dean.”

An hour later, Dean is calling Sam one last time, just in case, as they sit in the driveway of the Johnson family. After some hurried, but vague explanations about a family emergency, Linda agreed to keep an eye on Faith while they go to finish this hunt, once and for all. When the phone rolls to voicemail again, Dean curses and turns the ignition on the Impala, the engine coming to life with a roar.

“No luck?” Cas asks, even though he already knows the answer.

Dean shakes his head and he shifts the car into reverse and pulls out onto the road. The circumstances aren’t the greatest, but driving his baby again grounds him, stops him from panicking completely. With her rumbling comfortingly underneath him, his hands on the steering wheel, the open road in front of him, and Cas sitting beside him, Dean’s sure that he can handle this hunt.

The drive to New Jersey takes about six hours, all said and done. As they pull into the little podunk town sprawled along the Delaware river, Dean’s not sure why anything supernatural would bother with this place. It’s small and uninteresting, the center of town sort of quaint, but with enough empty store fronts that you can tell it’s struggling to stay that way. Dean hates spending time in places like this, places where he can feel that the end is coming and soon. He’s stayed in hundreds of these towns over the years and every single one makes him itch under his skin, desperate to be done and on his way.

The motel that Sam’s staying at isn’t difficult to find. It’s even less difficult to figure out what room he’s in—all it takes is a flash of a smile and a little charm, and the girl at reception is handing over the information along with a spare room key. Inside, Sam’s room is tidy, but his belongings are still there, so at least Dean knows for sure that he didn’t just lose his phone and head home after a successful hunt.

“So how do we go about killing this thing, anyways?” He sits down at the rickety desk in the corner, where Sam’s file on this hunt is laying undisturbed and closed. He opens it and right on top there’s research about naiads and Dean curses. Looks like Sam solved the case, same as Dean had.

“Naiads are, essentially deities, although minor ones. A wooden stake dipped in blood should probably do it, although I’d have to guess at what kind.”

“Well we can’t exactly storm in to rescue Sam with the wrong kind of wood, Cas! We need to be sure.”

“That’s what research is for.”

“We don’t have time for that!” Dean snaps. “Sam’s missing!”

“I’m aware,” Cas says, losing his patience. “After all these years, do you think I don’t care just as much for Sam as you do? I’m worried too, but panicking isn’t going to help him!”

Dean takes a couple deep breaths then, because Cas is right. He’s got to get it together, but it’s hard when he knows, deep in his bones, that Sam’s in trouble. If something bad happens to his brother, it’ll be his fault, and it’ll be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

And to think, this whole mess could have been avoided if he’d just _listened_. Dean’s never regretted going on a hunt in his entire life as much as this one.

“You should focus on finding out where Sam could be and I’ll work on taking down the naiad, okay?” Cas puts a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezes.

Dean nods. “Yeah. That makes sense. Divide and conquer, right?”

“Exactly,” Cas says, reaching for Sam’s notes. “Wasn’t he working with another hunter? Should we be looking for her too?”

“I mean, I guess he was.” Dean grabs the laptop off the desk and settles on the end of the bed to look for remote, abandoned places in the area that their monster could have stashed Sam. “But I did a little looking, trying to see if she was who she said she was. Got nothing. No other hunter in our network had heard of her.”

“Okay, so she’s suspect number one,” Cas declares almost distractedly, as he reads up on what Sam’s put together about the hunt. Quite frankly, Cas has a lot of catching up to do; whereas Dean’s been keeping up with the case with frequent calls to Sam and helping out with research, Cas hasn’t been paying attention to the details. He knows vaguely how the hunt has been going, but he hasn’t asked, not once, for any of the specifics.

“Do you think she could be the naiad? What was her name, Lara?”

“It’s possible,” Cas absently agrees.

“Bold move for her to work her own case with a seasoned hunter.”

“Or she’s just smart enough to hide in plain sight. Especially if she was already working as part of a pair.”

“Well, thankfully, it’s been less than 24 hours. They can’t have gotten far,” Dean says, trying to reassure himself.

“If the hunter Sam was working with is indeed a naiad, then she would want to stay close to the river.”

“Home field advantage, got it,” Dean quips, scoping through satellite maps of the area and property records for the town.

Cas settles in next to him, the length of him pressed up against Dean’s side. It’s a comfort he doesn’t deserve, but he’s too needy to reject it. Together they get to work. It only takes Dean a couple of hours to make a short list of locations near the river where someone could hide his Sasquatch of a brother without anyone noticing.

“He’s got to be here,” Dean says, tapping his computer screen. Cas leans over to get a better look and their shoulders brush. The cabin is close to the river, up in the hills. The most recent owner is an elderly man in a nursing home with no immediate family in the area. Conveniently, there are no neighbors around for miles.

“Well, it’s as good as place as any to start,” Cas says finally, having looked over all the information. He gets to his feet and shrugs his jacket back on.

“You want to go now?”

“Well, we’ll need to stop somewhere to get some oak to make into wooden stakes. And then break into the morgue—we’ll need some of the victims’ blood for the stakes to be effective. We could wait, if you really want to, but I figured you would want to get to Sam as soon as possible. As much as I don’t relish wandering around the woods at night, I’ll concede that there’s a good chance that Sam will be in more danger the longer we wait.”

“God, I love you,” Dean breathes out, not thinking. The moment the words register, his cheeks redden. He’s never said that out loud before, not to someone like Cas. It’s a big moment for him, but Cas pays no attention to his apparent embarrassment as he goes about gathering what they’ll need for their trip. It occurs to Dean, then, that, for Cas, this is not the first time he’s said that.

For Cas, ‘I love you’ is a regular thing to hear come out of Dean’s mouth. For Cas, this is _normal_.

“Well?” he says, looking over his shoulder, hand on the door knob. “Are you coming or not?”

* * *

 

Walking stealthily through the woods takes patience and a lightness of foot that Dean just doesn’t have right now. He makes an effort anyways, strides careful and slow to avoid rustling up the flora and detritus beneath his feet. Next to Cas, though, he may as well be stomping around and calling out Sam’s name. Cas may be human now, but he moves with an expedient grace that makes Dean jealous. Stalking through the woods with a bloody stake in your hand should not be elegant and yet, Cas’ moves are fluid and confident, a direct contrast to Dean’s hesitant plodding.

Once the cabin’s in sight, it’s all Dean can do to not just rush out of the woods and kick in the door. But since the element of surprise is the only thing they really have going for them, he holds himself back. They’re right at the edge of the surrounding woods when Cas holds up his hand, stopping Dean from moving forward.

“What’s wrong?” Dean whispers.

“Look.” Cas points to the ground just a ways away from the entrance, where a pile of blackened wood lies. It takes Dean a second to understand what he’s looking at but once he does, he breathes in sharply.

It’s a pyre. At least, the remains of one.

“You don’t think…” he trails off, not able to bring himself to say the words. Cas stares intensely at the site for another moment before shaking his head decisively.

“No. It’s not big enough for it to have been for Sam.”

“That doesn’t mean that Sam’s not dead,” Dean says.

“Both you and your brother have a long history of cheating death,” Cas replies. “I sincerely doubt that a naiad will succeed where archangels have failed.”

Once they reach the cabin, Dean hazards a quick look inside the front windows. The lights are on but no one is in the front room. Sharing a quick look with Cas, he reaches for the door; it’s unlocked. Gun in one hand, stake in the other, they step inside. Room by room, they move through the cabin, looking for signs of life. They’re almost at the bedroom in the back when they hear Sam’s voice.

“Dean’s going to be looking for me.” Relief floods through Dean so quickly it’s almost debilitating. “If you thought he was paranoid before, it’s nothing to what he’s like now. Losing five years of his life hasn’t exactly made him more trusting.”

“Well I plan to be long gone by the time he finds you,” a woman’s voice replies. “And you’re not going to remember me at all.”

And just as quickly as the relief appeared, it’s replaced with dread. It’s hasty, he knows, but he can’t let Sam lose five years of his memory too; he kicks open the door. The commotion causes the woman to jump and the cup she’s holding in her hand clatters to the floor, spilling water everywhere.

“Don’t move,” he barks and the woman stills, her hands in the air.

“I didn’t hurt him,” she says, voice edged with desperation, eyes wide with fear. “I promise, he’s fine.”

“Yeah, for now,” Dean bites out, entering the room slowly.

“I’m really okay, Dean,” Sam reassures.

“Cas, come untie him,” Dean calls out and adjusts his grip on his wooden stake, never taking his eyes off the threat in the room. Cas drops down next to Sam and, placing his weapons on the floor next to him, reaches for the ropes around Sam’s hands. “Is this the hunter you were working with?”

“Yes,” Sam replies. His hands now free, he rubs the tender skin, to get the blood flowing again.

“I told you she was bad news.” The woman rolls her eyes at his statement, lips pursed.

“Yeah and I agreed with you Dean. This isn’t really a good scenario for I told you so,” Sam says with a laugh.

“She really didn’t hurt you?”

Sam shrugs. “Nothing more than a knock on the head.”

“Okay, Lettie. Lara. Whatever your name is.” She’s exactly as Sam described her—unremarkable. Shoulder length brown hair, large brown eyes, and a plain but not unattractive face. She’s utterly nonthreatening and completely forgettable. If Dean didn’t know that she was a supernatural creature, he’d have a hard time believing that this wisp of a girl could get the drop on his six foot four brother. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right the fuck now.”

“Lethe. My name is Lethe. Lara is dead. Your brother—” She cuts herself off with a sharp intake of breath and tears spill quietly out of her eyes.

“Sam?” Dean questions, eyes never leaving the woman. He’s not going to be fooled by the crying damsel in distress routine.

“Yeah, I got her. She’s dead.”

“The funeral pyre outside?” Cas asks.

“I made it for her. I know, she killed those men. But she was my friend. She deserved that much at least,” Lethe answers. “I swear, I wasn’t going to hurt Sam. I was going to let him go.”

“Yeah the tying him up in a remote cabin in the woods thing really supports that statement,” Dean snarks.

“He needed to forget me first,” she explains and Dean freezes. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cas stiffen too. “After that, I was going to drop him back at his motel and be on my way.”

“ _How?_ ” He all but barks. “How were you going to do it?”

Lethe sighs, resigned. “How well do you know your Greek mythology?”

“The dead would drink from the river Lethe to forget their earthly lives,” Cas says with a tinge of realization. Lethe smiles.

“Cookie for you, Blue Eyes.”

“So you’re the one who did this to me?” Dean says.

“I did,” she admits.

“And you think this is a reason that I _shouldn’t_ make sure you’re six feet under? Because honestly, I’m a second away from making sure you don’t do this to anyone else.”

“You would do the same for Sam,” she retorts. “You’d do a hell of a lot worse, honestly. I may keep a low profile but I still keep my ear to the ground. How many apocalypses have resulted from your unhealthy codependency issues?”

“That’s not the same,” Sam replies.

“You’re right, it’s not. Regardless, I was determined to help someone who has been as close to me as a sister. I told her, over and over, that if she kept up killing people, it’d bring hunters down on us, but she wouldn’t listen. So I tried to throw you both off the scent until I could come up with a way to stop her.”

“So you made Dean forget,” Cas concludes. “And were going to do the same thing to Sam.”

“It was either that, or kill them,” Lethe quips. “A little drink of water and poof! Gone was the trail of rapists, gone was the research on naiads, on Lara, on me. I figured this way was the best option for both of us. It was certainly kinder than what you would choose to do to me or Lara.”

“You fucking bitch,” Dean snarls. “You think losing five years of my memories was _kind_?” He feels every painful moment of the past week and a half deep in his soul. Physically, she may have left him intact, but the emotional anguish he’s experienced is worse than anything she wounds she could have inflicted. Dean forgot his daughter. Dean forgot _Cas_.

“You should be glad I left you with any at all! And that I drove your dumb ass home instead of just dropping you in a ditch somewhere. But yeah, go ahead, call me a bitch, hate me for protecting me and mine. I’ll certainly remember it the next time a hunter crosses my path.”

“Can you fix it?” Cas interjects. “Can you reverse the effects?”

“Why would I?”

“Because if you don’t, I will put a bullet between your eyes, so help me,” Dean growls, grip tightening on his gun.

“Oh like that will do you any good. Newsflash Winchester—I’m not human. I’m not exactly Zeus here, but it will take a little more than a gun and a bad attitude to take me down. And I have no intention of letting you succeed.”

“Look,” Sam says, forever the voice of reason. “It’s in all of our best interests to strike a deal here. You may be a bit harder to kill than your garden variety monster, but if you’ve been paying attention at all for the past fifteen years, then you’ll know that we’ve taken on baddies bigger than you. I don’t want to have to hunt you down, and I’m sure Dean and Cas don’t really want to either, but we will. The way I see it, if you put Dean’s memory back in order, we’ll let you walk out of here, no harm, no foul. Do we have a deal?”

“You can’t be serious, Sam,” Dean protests, but Cas elbows him in the side, glaring.

“Shut up, Dean,” he says under his breath. “Don’t ruin this.”

Lethe sizes up the three of them for one more moment before she nods. “Fine. We have a deal.” She turns on her heel and walks towards the door of the bedroom. “Follow me.”

She leads them to the kitchen of the cabin and the boys stand there awkwardly as she rummages through the cupboards. Once she finds a glass, she goes to the sink and fills it halfway with water.

“So it doesn’t matter where the water comes from, you can just…?” Sam asks, curious. Dean can’t help but roll his eyes at his brother’s constant quest for knowledge.

“I’m the living embodiment of forgetfulness and oblivion, Sam. The water isn’t what has the power, I do.”

“I mean, humans are 70% water, have you ever just tried to—”

“Sam,” Dean cuts in. “Can your fangirling wait until after?” Sam pulls a face but shuts up. Turning to face them, Lethe carefully slips one finger into the cup, letting her fingertip brush the surface of the water. As she mutters an incantation in Greek, the water glows silver and bright, otherworldly, before it fades away as Lethe finishes speaking. It looks like a normal glass of water right now, but Dean takes it carefully from her, as if handling a bomb.

“Go on,” she says. “Drink.”

Dean frowns, hesitant and suspicious. “How do I know this isn’t going to make me lose another five years?”

“The same way you know I’m not poisoning you—by drinking it and seeing what happens.”

“If this is a trick, then you must know that nothing will stop us from hunting you down to the most remote corners of the Earth,” Cas says.

“As fun as that sounds, I think you’ll find that you’ll never have cause to see my face again after this. Go on. Bottoms up.”

With a deep breath Dean knocks back the glass; the water sliding down his throat is so cold that it burns and he can’t help but wince at the feeling. When there’s not a drop left, he wipes his sleeve over his lips and waits, hopes. But one second turns into two turns into three and nothing changes. His knee jerk reaction is anger, but Lethe is still standing in front of all of them, looking down at her nails, expression bored, and showing no sign of making a run for it. If she really had duped them, shouldn’t she be looking for the nearest exit?

“Dean?” Cas asks, curious, and Dean can feel the dread well up in his gut over having to tell Cas that it didn’t work, he still doesn’t remember a thing. But the moment his eyes make contact with Cas, the world shifts, realigns, and Dean’s left speechless, overwhelmed as wave after wave of memories that flood back to him. They fill him up from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, every atom in him screaming with warmth and happiness and love so powerful it drowns out the few memories of sadness and anger. Every single second of the past five years weaves together seamlessly and Dean can do little but try to breathe and ride it out.

When the dust settles, Cas is standing in front of him. His face is drawn, concerned, but he’s not touching Dean, still giving him plenty of space.

“Dean?” He asks again, this time more insistent, voice tinged with worry.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean finally breathes, voice cracking with emotion. 

That seems to be the only thing Cas needs because Cas wastes no time wrapping his arms around Dean less than a moment later, his grip just this side of too tight. Dean clutches back at him just as fiercely.

“Oh thank god,” Cas’ body practically goes limp in Dean’s arms as he clings to him. “ _You came back._ ”

“I promised, didn’t I?” Dean says, pulling back just a little bit so that he can slot his lips over Cas’, pressing all his love into the kiss.

Dean doesn’t see Lethe slip out but she’s gone the next time he manages to pull away from Cas. Sam’s still there, though, grinning in relief. Dean lets go of Cas to wrap his arms around his overgrown brother.

“Thanks for all your help, Sammy.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Sam pats him on the back before pulling away. It doesn’t take them long to clean up after themselves, put the cabin to rights, and cover up their tracks. In the past, they never would have bothered, but now that they have a daughter, Dean doesn’t want to take any chances. The last thing they all need is the cops to show up on their doorstep on the off chance the owners file a police report. 

They leave the cabin, and hike back through the woods to where they’ve parked the car, never once letting go of each other’s hand. Dean holds the passenger door open for Cas and presses a kiss to his temple as he gets in before he circles around to the driver’s side and Sam gets settled into the back seat. They spend the night at the motel, everyone too tired to try and make the journey back after the day they’ve had. But that night, with Cas’ arms wrapped around him, their naked bodies pressed together, head to toe, Dean is sure there’s no better feeling than coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written over five months and on three continents, the majority of it handwritten in a notebook while sitting on a three day train from Yekaterinburg to Irkutsk. It’s been a lesson in the frustration of multitasking (and my complete inability to do that), but also a labor of love. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


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